The Plantation - Di Morrissey [94]
During the time we spent in the villages of the Orang Asli, I came to learn that Ah Kit was looked upon with great respect by the other communists and even the Orang Asli. I enjoyed sitting and talking with him when we had the chance, although it was obvious that apart from our intense dislike of the Japanese, we now had very little in common.
‘When this war is over, old boy, you’ll have to do something for Ah Kit,’ said Bill.
‘I certainly will. He can hardly go back to being my house-boy for, as much as I would like that, I don’t expect he would.’
We continued our work for several more months, but Roger’s malaria attacks were becoming more and more frequent and severe, and Ah Kit was finding it harder to supply him with quinine. Then the radio started to falter. The high humidity was certainly playing havoc with it. Ah Kit managed to get some spare parts smuggled in to us, but, often, by the time he did and we repaired the thing, all the passwords at HQ had changed and we had difficulty persuading our contact that we were legitimate and not being held by the enemy.
Eventually, HQ decided that it was time to get us all out. The plan was that we would travel over the mountains and through the jungle to the west coast, to meet up with a submarine, which would be waiting for us off one of the coastal islands. By this time, none of us was feeling all that fit. All of us had been ill with various tropical diseases. Bill had had a particularly nasty bout of blackwater fever, as well as the ever-present malaria. The long trek down to the coast was daunting.
When we looked at our map, Bill said, ‘If we were to walk due west from here, we would get out of the mountains much faster that if we go north-west.’
Roger nodded in agreement. ‘It certainly would be easier, but then we are exposed to quite a long hike along the coast and the Japs are very likely to spot us.
‘Not if we were disguised. We were Sikhs to get here, couldn’t we do the same thing again?’ I suggested.
‘You and I don’t know the lingo, old chap. We’d be caught as soon as we opened our mouths,’ replied Roger.
Ah Kit had been sitting very quietly. ‘Plenty of Chinese coolies on the west coast. Maybe you should be Chinese.’
‘But the problem still remains. As soon as we have to speak, the Japs will know we’re English,’ I said.
‘I will come with you and I will do all the speaking,’ said Ah Kit.
Ah Kit seemed to have little trouble procuring clothes for us, and a few weeks later, after we thanked the villagers for their help, we made our way to the coast and the rendezvous spot dressed as coolies, carrying large, although not very heavy, loads on our backs.
Once we reached the coast, we were amazed by the numbers of Japs that we saw. They seemed to be everywhere. Ah Kit did all the talking and we kept to the edges of the road and inside any plantations as much as we could.
One evening, after we had been walking all day in the tropical heat and wearing very uncomfortable sandals, we camped under some rubber trees for the night. Ah Kit went off for a while and returned, bringing us some coconuts, which cheered us up because the coconut milk was very refreshing.
‘It is a pity, Captain Elliott, that we did not have coconuts when you were wounded. The milk is very clean and many people use it to wash wounds,’ said Ah Kit.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘And the taste is wonderful. A lot nicer than Condy’s crystals.’
Our luck held. Ah Kit managed the Japanese very well. Although they shouted at us and questioned us about where we were going, Ah Kit was able to answer them in such a way that none of them came close enough to our party to discern that we were not Chinese. And I must say that we looked so ragged and unhealthy that they were probably quite pleased to give us a wide berth.
Our meeting